


As You Come Home

by puck1919



Series: Take On Me [5]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Gosalyn Starling - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Needles, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stitches, five times/one time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puck1919/pseuds/puck1919
Summary: Five times Drake came home late (and one time he didn't).
Relationships: Drake Mallard & Gosalyn Mallard, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera & Gosalyn Mallard, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Drake Mallard
Series: Take On Me [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688977
Comments: 1
Kudos: 49





	As You Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> “So long as you come home at the end of the day  
> That would be enough.”  
> — Hamilton, “That Would Be Enough”

Drake collapsed on the couch in his apartment, not even having the energy to take off his jacket, much less the rest of the suit. He was in and out of consciousness and wondering if he was even going to make it to his bed that night when he heard a door open. He woke with a start. Fenton came out of the bedroom.

"I thought I heard you come in," Fenton said, going over to the couch. "Drake, come to bed."

"The hell are you doing here?" Drake said. "You should be at home, you should be resting."

"Well, there's only so much of M'ma fussing over me that I can take," Fenton said, helping Drake up. "So I thought I'd come over and have my boyfriend fuss over me instead."

Fenton practically dragged Drake to bed and started helping him out of his jacket.

"Oh, god, everything's sore..." Drake muttered. "How'd you even get in? My door was locked."

"You gave me a key when you broke your leg, because you never did figure out how to use the crutches," Fenton said. "Help me with your shirt."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm really too tired, Fen," Drake said.

"I'm going to put it in the wash," Fenton said. "It's soaked in sweat, it's not good to have that against your skin for too long."

"Hey, _you're_ the one that just had heart surgery, I should be taking care of you," Drake said.

Fenton snorted. "Yeah, but I can walk from the couch to the bed without help, so where does that put you?"

Fenton got Drake's shirt off and saw the map of bruises developing just under the white feathers on his chest. He barely touched one of them and Drake winced. He pulled his hand away and Drake took his wrist and pulled it back. Drake's feathers were thick between Fenton's fingers. He could feel Drake's chest moving with labored breaths as Drake's hand moved up to his shoulder and he brought him in for a kiss.

"Things got pretty bad tonight, huh," Fenton said.

"This is why I was going to crash on the couch," Drake said. "Yeah."

Fenton exhaled, balling up the suit and going into the bathroom to the washing machine.

"So, I'm just supposed to get used to you coming home at all hours, covered in bruises I'm not supposed to ask about?" Fenton said.

"As opposed to you being stuck at the lab with Gyro late at night, and that computer port in the back of your skull that you think I haven't noticed yet?"

The two paused. The machine started up with a thunk. Fenton started to laugh.

"Oh, this is... this is not going to be like other relationships," he said.

"Have you _had_ a relationship since you started?" Drake asked. "God knows I haven't. I haven't had a relationship since I dropped out of college..."

"I've been on _one_ date," Fenton said, coming back into the bedroom. "Almost two years being a superhero, I've had _one_ date, and it wasn't even that."

"That was the date you _weren't_ on with Mark Beaks, right?" Drake asked.

"Right."

Fenton sat next to Drake on the bed. Drake put an arm around Fenton's shoulders.

"I love you," Drake said. "But I _really_ want to get some sleep before work tomorrow."

* * *

Drake was _hoping_ Fenton wasn't awake when he crawled into the bedroom window at 1:30 in the morning. But of course, Fenton wasn't in bed and he could hear him talking in Spanish out in the living room. Drake opened the door. Fenton was sitting on the couch, his phone to his ear.

" _Si... si... gracias,_ M'ma," Fenton said. "Good night."

Fenton hung up the phone.

"I thought you had the night off," Fenton said. "I thought Della was out tonight."

"Donald came home today," Drake said. "They... there were some issues."

"I see," Fenton said.

Drake paused, leaning against the door frame. "I'm not apologizing."

"I can tell," Fenton said. "Did you want to ask why I was on the phone with my mother at this time of night?"

"That was next," Drake said, starting to take off the suit.

"It was Gosalyn," Fenton said. "She's having night terrors."

"I know."

Fenton blinked. "You _knew_."

"Yeah," Drake said.

"Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"I didn't want you to worry about it. I can handle this."

"But you don't have to handle it _alone_ ," Fenton said.

"You have them too," Drake said. "You're barely conscious, you thrash in your sleep, you're _screaming_ that you can't breathe... and you forget all about it in the morning. You have PTSD, Fen. And so does she. And I know how to deal with it, so... I deal with it."

Fenton stood up, walking over to Drake.

"I know what..." Drake sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me? Did you think I wouldn't..? That I couldn't handle it? Drake, if I'm hurting you—"

"You're not hurting me," Drake said. "You're not hurting yourself. If you want to talk to someone, I'm there for you, but..."

Fenton paused, taking Drake's hands. "You didn't want me to think I was going crazy."

"Yeah," Drake said quietly. "I also thought you might not want to adopt a child, let alone one who's going to need what she'll need from a parent, if we can't even decide if we want to live together. Your mom _said_ we're not ready for this. I... I don't have much of a choice, but you do. I didn't want to make that decision for you."

Fenton shook his head. "What, was me moving in, some... joke? Like I don't mean it?"

"Everyone leaves, Fen," Drake said. "I'm going to get, what, five or six years with Gosalyn? Before _she's_ gone? I don't want... I don't want you to think that you have to stay."

"I _want_ to stay," Fenton said. "I _want_ to be a part of your life, and she does too. Don't push us away because you're not used to that."

"I'm _not_ used to that," Drake said.

"Well, _get_ used to it, Wingsy," Fenton said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Drake grinned. "Is that right, Gizmodork?"

Fenton kissed him. "Yeah, that's right."

* * *

When Drake climbed in the window, he saw Fenton sitting up in bed. His breathing was ragged and he was scratching at the scar on his chest. Drake ran over to him grabbing his hands.

"No," he said, firmly. "Fenton, no."

"I want..." Fenton said. "I want it _out_ , I can't sleep, I can't feel my fingers, it's too loud, it's... it's too loud."

Fenton struggled against Drake, who pinned him to the bed as gently as he could.

"It's too loud..."

"It's just your heart," Drake said. "It's the adrenaline. You've got to breathe, Fen. In. Out. In. Out."

Fenton got his breathing under control as tears welled in his eyes.

"Drake, get it out," Fenton said.

"I'm not taking your heart out," Drake said. "Fen, come here."

Drake gathered Fenton into his arms. Fenton was shaking, in a cold sweat, his hair clinging to his face, and he cried into Drake's shoulder.

"Fenton, I need to ask you some questions," Drake said. "And I need you to answer honestly, and I need you to know I'm not going to judge you. Has this happened before?"

"Yes," Fenton whispered.

"Before the surgery?"

"No."

Drake nodded. "Okay. I'm taking Gosalyn to her therapy appointment after I get off work tomorrow. I'm going to pick up some information for you. Can you promise me you'll look it over?"

"Yeah," Fenton said.

Drake held him close, then laid him down on the bed. He kissed Fenton's scar and got up.

"I'm going to take a shower. I'm going to change. Get something to eat, please."

Fenton nodded. "What are these?"

"Three diplomas in five majors..." Drake said. "They're panic attacks, Fenton. I used to get them too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Drake said. "Get some food, I'll be out in a minute."

* * *

When Drake got home, Fenton was fast asleep. He took off his hat and mask and headed out into the kitchen to look for something to eat. There was a stifled sound in Gosalyn’s room. He opened the door and Gosalyn turned away from the door and hid under her covers. Drake sighed and shut the door behind him. 

“You’re gonna have to get faster than that,” he said.

He sat on the edge of the bed and she crawled out from under the sheets. Her eyes were red and her face was wet.

“Sweety, what’s wrong?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” she muttered.

“Gos...” he sighed.

She wiped off her face. “I miss Dad, that’s all.”

Drake’s shoulders fell. “Yeah. I do too.”

Gosalyn sniffed.

“My dad, your grandfather, had been dead for a long time by the time I was your age,” Drake said. “But I still missed him a lot. I still do sometimes. Fenton, I know he thinks about the time he didn’t get with his father. We take you to talk with Dr. Cavanaugh for a reason, but you know you can talk to us about... well, anything, right?”

She nodded.

“I get wanting to sit alone in your room and cry, god knows I want to sometimes,” Drake said. “But, just... come and find us when you’re done. No matter what time it is, we’re here for you.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders and held him tight.

“I love you, Uncle Drake,” she said.

“I love you too, Gosalyn.”

Drake stayed until he was certain she’d gone back to sleep and then went back to his room and collapsed into bed. Fenton stirred.

“Everything okay, babe?” Fenton muttered, still half-asleep.

“Yeah, we’re good, Fen,” Drake said. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mm’kay,” Fenton said, his arm curling around Drake’s waist. Drake kissed his forehead before falling asleep himself.

* * *

Drake limped into the apartment, holding his arm which was hanging from his torso not quite in the way it was intended to, and collapsed just inside the threshold. The cut on his brow was bleeding into his eye and he was sore in all sorts of new and exciting ways. Fenton ran over to him.

"I heard the explosion," he said, closing and locking the door. "I turned on the news, you should have called me."

"Someone's gotta stay with Gosalyn," Drake said.

Fenton helped Drake over to the couch.

"Tío Fenton?" Gosalyn called from her room. "What's going on?"

"I'm home, Gos," Drake said. "Stay in your room, go back to sleep. Fen, why is she up?"

"We could hear the explosion from the apartment," Fenton said. "It's a miracle the whole building didn't see you come in."

Drake sat down, still holding his arm.

"What's wrong?" Fenton said.

"I think I dislocated my shoulder," Drake said.

"No, you definitely did that." Fenton got up and got one of the Gizmoduck arms. "Hold still."

"What are you going to do?" Drake asked, trying to inch away.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Fenton muttered.

Fenton wrapped his unarmored arm cross-wise across Drake's chest. Drake felt Fenton's armored hand grab his shoulder, which hurt enough as it was, and a short movement popped the limb back in place. Drake yelled in pain.

"You're welcome," Fenton said. "We should still have a real doctor look at it. Now about that cut..."

Fenton took off the arm and looked for the first aid kit. Being the home of two active superheroes, it was a little more substantial than the ones that either of them had grown up with. Fenton had Drake lie down on the couch. He took off his engagement ring and pulled out an alcohol wipe.

"This is going to sting."

He took off Drake's mask and gently wiped the blood away. Drake winced with each touch.

"Lie _still_ ," Fenton said, pushing the newly relocated shoulder into the couch. Drake grimaced, but stopped moving.

Fenton pressed a piece of gauze on the wound as he searched for the needle and thread.

"Your bedside manner could use some work," Drake muttered.

"Keep pressure on it," Fenton said, letting go of the gauze.

Drake did as asked. "There were people in there, Fen. People that don't have the advantage of bullet-proof, inflammable clothes made of nanotech. Della ran in right after me."

"I know," Fenton said softly. He threaded the needle. "I'm not mad at you."

"Really? Because it feels like you're mad at me," Drake said.

"You're going to need to be very still," Fenton said. "Close your eyes."

Drake removed the gauze and closed his eyes. He could feel Fenton's hands on him, the needle, the thread. When Fenton finished the stitches, he let go of a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and opened his eyes. Fenton leaned down and kissed him.

"Don't go where I can't follow," Fenton said. "If you don't want me in a fire, then don't run into fire."

“If you could have been there, I’d’ve called you immediately,” Drake said. “There’s no one I’d rather be next to.”

* * *

Fenton dropped his bag inside and locked the door behind him. There was a faint glow from the static on the TV as the tape Drake and Gosalyn must have been watching had long finished. Remnants of popcorn and empty cans of Pep covered the coffee table. The two had fallen asleep on the couch. 

Fenton smiled. He scooped Gosalyn up in his arms and Drake stirred.

“Fen?”

“I got her, Drake,” Fenton said. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry,” Drake muttered, waking up. “Meant to clean up before you got back.”

“Because we had agreed on no snacks after dinner?” Fenton said, taking Gosalyn back to her room.

“Except for special occasions,” Drake said.

“Right.” Fenton put Gosalyn in bed and tucked her in. “Good night, _pollita_.”

Fenton shut the door to her room behind him.

“So was me not being here the special occasion?” Fenton asked.

“No, it’s...” Drake said. “Mal was over earlier, so it wasn’t like...”

Fenton ejected the tape from the VCR— it was one of Drake’s copies of old _Darkwing_ episodes.

“You can just say it had to do with Jim,” Fenton said, turning the TV off. “Are _you_ okay? I know you’ve been—”

“I’m fine,” Drake said. “Really. It helps her feel close to him.”

Fenton nodded, putting the tape down. “Well, I’m exhausted. We should get to bed.”

“Yeah,” Drake said, following him back.

Fenton fell over, face first, sprawled out on the bed. He groaned softly. Drake laid down beside him.

"Rough night?" Drake asked.

"Hack and Slash attacked a charity ball," Fenton said. "They couldn't figure out why their knives weren't working on me."

"Gyro's gonna kill you if you damaged the armor again," Drake said.

Fenton smiled and leaned against Drake’s shoulder.

“Sorry I was late getting home,” he said.

“Have I ever apologized for being late getting home?” Drake asked.

“No, in fact you adamantly _refuse_ to apologise,” Fenton said.

“Yeah,” Drake said. “So, you’re good.”


End file.
